


Fate of Broken Roads

by Semi_Weird_Shipper



Series: Weirdo's Slasher/Bad Guy Stories [4]
Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street - All Media Types, Child's Play/Chucky (Movies), Friday the 13th Series (Movies), Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Scream (Movies)
Genre: And most of the inmates, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Falling In Love, False Accusations, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Freddy is a pervert, Friendship/Love, Goodbye, He's gotta have the hat, Hurt/Comfort, I can't take Freddy seriously without his hat, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Injury Recovery, It's prison ok, M/M, Major Character Injury, Molestation, Possessive Behavior, Prison, Prison Sex, Protectiveness, Romance, slashers, so is billy, that's all I'm saying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23368741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_Weird_Shipper/pseuds/Semi_Weird_Shipper
Summary: Michael Myers x Reader x Jason Voorhees.In this story the reader is falsely convicted of a crime and is sentenced to prison, but the inmates there are crazy, mad, insane. Who will protect you from all these bad experiences? And what intentions exactly does your room mate have in mind for you?
Relationships: Jason Voorhees/Reader, Michael Myers/Reader
Series: Weirdo's Slasher/Bad Guy Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744741
Comments: 91
Kudos: 554





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So in this story, I made it to where the reader is super kind, super timid and soft. The inmates are gross idiots. Will probably have some tension going on with Freddy and Scream dude. I want everyone to know that this is totally not cannon, ok, I made it up, but I wanted to give it a try anyway.

You weren't supposed to be here.

Guards escorted you down a horrifically insane hallway where prisoners constantly reached out their filthy hands through the bars, trying to lash onto anything they could to satisfy their deadly needs. You swallow uncomfortably at their freakish nature, feeling the unshakable weight of dread and apprehension seeping further and further into your bones. Tight metal cuffs added to the freezing cold blisters that were suffocating your body, stiffening you up, causing you to sweat off your riled nerves. It was atrocious.

You weren't meant to be here. You had tried to reason with the court officials, officers, friends- anyone who was willing to listen, but no one would help. They didn't believe you. In this demented town, no one believed you. It was a place where first guess was first announced guilty for whatever you were suspected for. They needed answers and were commonly known to take the first defeat to settle those frustrating questions through. And you just happened to be one of those victims.

You didn't even know the people they accused you of killing. They were teenagers, and yeah, you weren't that much older yourself, but you were definitely mature enough to stay away from the likes of those trouble makers. Nine teenagers had been found with their throats slashed, arms removed and bodies in nasty, bloated bags floating lifelessly in the creek. Five were female and the others male. You hadn't known any of them, and you begged and begged the counsel to understand this fact through. They didn't. And that was ridiculous. How could someone like you even think to harm the smallest annoying fly?

It didn't matter. You thought as the dark, concrete walls settled in more and more, providing a bigger cage than the one in your head. You tried to ignore all the raging, disturbing, or inappropriate things all the other inmates were shouting and focused on the building dread formulating inside your body. Who knows what was to happen to you here. Prison was an unpredictable place, especially when they mixed women and men together.

Your trance faced an interruption as the guards yanked you to a stop and pushed you in the direction of a randomly open cell. You tumbled in, biting back a pained noise when they obnoxiously grabbed your wrists and unlocked the cuffs. Immediately you went in to rub them, registering the relief and soreness that was commencing. You turned to look back at them, eyes wide and full of sorrow as you watched them close and lock the heavy bars to your cell. They didn't say anything besides a rude, demanding, "Behave" before looking straight and walking away.

You watched them go, finding it ironic having never imagined being a sad, lonely person gripping onto the cold bars of a prison cell while seeking out any kind of hope from within. "Hey sweetie," Someone called out, and you gazed across the hall at the cell in front of you.

A man wearing a filthy white jumpsuit, much like the one you wore, waved his fingers at you invitingly. He was smirking, half his head shaved and tattoos decorating his dark tan skin. He raised his eyebrows at noticing your attention and pointed down at his nether regions. "See what you do to me," He hollered.

Your eyes grew wide at the sight of his exposed erection bobbing out from between the zipper of his pants. You flushed, making a startled noise and turning around to face the bland walls of your cell, chest heavy with strangled thought.

"Now think about what I'm gonna do to you, sweetie," You heard him say, his voice a frightening type of determined malice that made you quiver in fear and disgust, "Soon as I get myself outta' this damn cell, you're mine."

"Not if I get to her first!" Some other anonymous voice shouted, causing a match of tone to begin. 

Vile filled your mouth as tears pricked your eyes. So soon it was starting, and you had only just got here. To think of every hour, every day and week that you'd be facing, each with countless comments and possibilities of being harassed. It made you weak. You sat down on the single cot beside you, trying your best to shut out all the voices and conversations bursting out behind you.

Why? You wondered. Why did this happen?

... 

You spent quite some time on the cot before deciding to move behind some sort of metal, embedded chair at the side of the room. It was uncomfortable but a major achievement in getting most of the filthy inmates to stop talking to or about you. You curled your knees close to your chest and lean your head against the wall, trying hard not to cry as every little stress danced in the front of your mind. It was hard not to ignore. After all, you've basically just lost your life for no reason, and it was probably going to be controlled on terribly painful levels.

You were jerked from your ill state of mind by the sound of panicked voices and heavy ruffling chains scraping against the concrete floor. Slowly standing to your cold, numb feet, you gaze out the cell, confused and wondering what it was that had the other inmates so shaken. Even the big, scary tattoo freak who first commented you was easing back in his cell, looking mortified. You blink, going to the end of your cell and looking out.

The sounds of clanking, metal chains filled the air as multiple guards passed by, each set of four surrounding a single prisoner that was wrapped in chains from neck to ankle. Your eyes widened impossibly further as you watched them begin to pass by. The prisoners didn't even look up. You weren't sure if they even could. They just kept their heads down as they shuffled in their chains, moving on slowly down the hall.

Goosebumps immediately devoured your body. What had they done to be so feared, so secured?

Like many other things, your questions went unanswered as a pair of guards surprised you by stopping in front of your cell. Gasping, you quickly backed up, watching in both fear and confusion as they unlocked your cell. The gates opened with a croak. For a moment, you wondered if they wanted something from you, but that wonder was crushed when the two guards stepped apart to reveal a taller, much more masculine form.

You silently gasp, heart freezing in your throat.

There, standing tall and big in a faded grey jumpsuit was a man. He had mid-long, brown curly hair, an unreadable expression and the biggest hands you had ever seen. His face bore a scar on the left eye. You weren't sure of its color, just that the owner most likely had no intention of showing it.

Unaware that you were staring in awe, the guards began to snap open the many, many sets of chains on the massive beast, seemingly kind of rough as he stood still and faced the treatment. A touch of affliction burned inside you. No one should be treated so badly, not even if they could scare the pants off of champion wrestlers. You squint your eyes in unease.

Once the cuffs and chains were clear of his body, the guards gave him a nudge and the stranger walked forward, slowly. You moved back, unsure of what to do or say as he continued to slowly approach the innards of the cell. Thus being so focused on the new comer, you gasped when you heard and saw the guards locking the doors back into place. Eagerly, you wished to say something, to call out and claim security in this insane situation, but the words were iced up in your throat as you back up into the cell wall.

Alarmed as the large stranger continued to roam forward, your eyes quickly looked back and forth and all around, but there was nothing. Nothing would protect you should he wish to harm you. You wince at the realization of hopelessness and try not to panic. "Please," You say, voice on the verge of breaking.

His head turned in what was in painfully slow motion, the dim light shining in his one dark brown eye and revealing the haggard, scarred appearance of the other one. You gasp again. On his face was a look of suspicion of some sort, his eyes intensely focused in on you, staring. In all honesty, you weren't sure what he was thinking. You had no clue. All you knew was that he was close and getting closer, his bare feet a tune in the thick air.

Your heart rate picked up and you bowed your head in mortification, "Please..." Tears sparkled in your eyes, "Please don't." You press yourself into the wall as much as you could, turning your head down and trying not to think too hard about what was about to happen. Regardless, your body quivered anyway and your breathing became irregular. 

He stopped in front of you.

He was tall. So tall. You didn't stand a chance. Out of motion, you could feel his body heat, his breath, his entire existence. It towered over you, seeming to eat you whole. You breathe out shakily, preparing for the pain you knew was about to unfold.

The stranger looked you over, his eyes tracing every square inch of your being. It only lasted a second, but he was backing away in the same manner in which he had approached. You tear open your eyes, silently gaping at the sudden drop of expectations. He was walking away, slowly. You blinked, trying to answer yourself if this was real or not. Were you even still alive?

The relief settled quickly at the thought that maybe he didn't intend on harming you, but the fear was still there. Hesitantly, your body relaxed and you let out a few short breaths, watching him idly as you remain pressed against the wall. The way he moved was so... strange. Short steps and slow motions. He almost looked like a zombie. 

He stopped a few feet in front of the cot, staring at it for a few long seconds before turning his head to look back at you. On instinct, you smile and nod your head, trying not to sound too nervous, "Y-you can lie down... I don't mind."

As if satisfied, the man looked back to the ground and took the last steps he needed in order to be able to sit down. You watched him as he lied down, face pointed toward the wall as he stretched his body out comfortably. Then there was silence besides what the outside of your, apparently, shared cell provided. You stand your ground, watching and waiting to see if the man intended on doing anything else, but he merely laid there, motionless.

You finally grow the courage to scoot back to your spot behind the chair, legs trembling lightly as you slid down the wall. Curling your legs back up, you wondered if you should engage in conversation, possibly try to get to know your cell mate and make friends. He didn't seem to wanna harm you so far, so maybe that was a opportunity to get to know him better. But what if he didn't want anything to do with you? Surely he would have said something if he did. You flush, mixed up in your troubled thoughts. Too much had happened and both of you looked to be suffering a certain amount of irrelevant stress.

Other questions and probabilities popped up, keeping your brain on auto. Who was he? What had he done to be chained up like that? Why did he approach like that only to swerve away last second? Where had he been when you were escorted here? Had the guards made a mistake bringing you here? There was only one bed. Maybe it was an accident.

You gasped when a loud beeping started happening, and walls began to slowly drop in front of each cell door, including yours. You look over the chair, eyes widening at the white, garage like wall that was settling down over the cell bars, blocking all view and noise of the other inmates. Gazing to the cot, you see that the man was nonplussed and unaffected by the loud, impetuous noise.

You shuddered, hoping he'd stay that way even towards you. You didn't need anymore attention than what you knew you wouldn't be able to avoid getting. 

* * *

You couldn't sleep that night. The floor remained cold and your body tense as you stayed in your spot on the floor. Besides the casual roll or twitch of the quiet man on the bed, there was nothing. You had tried lying down on the ground, but it was just too hard, too cold, too risky. You couldn't sleep. There was still too much going on inside your head, and you didn't think it would ever stop.

When the obnoxious sounds of the big, white doors opening happened, you accidentally gasped, but whether it was you or the loud noise that woke your cell mate, you did not know. Sound began to fill up the space, vague and incomprehensible. Footsteps broke out down the hall along with the clatter of keys and dark, blue army boots. You watched as guards stopped upon each cell, holding a tray in their hands. The one that stopped in front of you snickered, bent over and slid the cheap, plastic tray in through a tiny gap underneath the cell.

You blink, stomach growling at the thought of food. You hadn't eaten since yesterday morning before you were found guilty, and although prison food was not the most decent idea, you knew it was the most you'd ever get. Scooting forward, you look down at the tray, noting that the food was rather plain and boring, however filling though. You were about to take the hard plastic spoon and dig in, but a reminder of who exactly you were with settled in.

They only brought one tray of food. You realized and looked up at the man sitting up right on the bed. How had you not noticed that? Perhaps it was your hunger and lack of sleep driving you into insanity. "Here..." You mumble timidly, pushing the tray forward gently, "You go first. I... I can wait."

You stare down at the tray, waiting patiently for him to take it. Your stomach was aching and you wanted to hurl by how empty it made itself out to be. But the staring at and longing for food only grew whenever the strange man didn't make a move. You look up at him only to see that he was staring right back, his eyes intense. You swallowed and lowered your head, saying as softly as you could, "Please eat."

You had manners. Nothing would ever take that away. People knew you to be nothing more than soft spoken and kind. You put others before yourself. It was just a force of habit, even when it came down to prison mates.

The man continued to look at you, his one good eye feeling as if it were cutting through you. You give up, plopping back against the wall and covering your face, now taking in the added fact that you weren't going to be able to even eat. You suck in a breath, downed with fear, hunger, stress and pain. You'd be surprised if you could even live through the day.

The sound of plastic scraping across the hard floor put your tears on halt and your head lifted. Your eyes met the slowly moving form of the large man who slowly inched the tray back in your direction. Seriously, how did you not hear him? Your eyes were wide as you watch him sit back on the cot, staring at you with that unreadable expression. Was he not hungry?

"But..." You look down at the tray for a second, eyes confused before gazing back up at the man, "What about you?"

As if right on cue, the cell gate was opened. You gasped and looked up, seeing the same four guards from yesterday. They lifted their fingers and made a ticking noise, "Tc, tc, tc. Here Mikey, Mikey."

Mikey? Was that his name?

"Come on you lazy fuck," Another guard snapped.

You flinched, grabbing the tray before the guards crushed it as they scampered in. You gasp, pushing yourself against the wall as you watch them roughly grab at the man on the cot, forcing him to his feet and pushing him around. You reached out on instinct, hating seeing someone get treated so badly, but curled your fingers back in retaliation. There was nothing you could do except for watch as they attached a chain around his neck, linked it to his arms, behind his back and down to his ankles.

You noticed that the man did struggle, but it must have been from pain. You whimper, wishing you could help him.

"Eat up, little girl," A guard said as he guided the man out the gate, winking, "You've only got twenty five minutes before this prisons gonna be eating you."

One of the other guards scoffed at his joke, "Terry, come on, just lock the damn door already."

You watch, paralyzed, unable to properly process what just happened. Why were they having to cuff up that man like that, and why were they being so rude? Had he really done something that bad? You shudder, gripping loosely onto your food. As more and more of the similar guards began guiding the chained prisoners down the hall, you began to hear yesterday's random conversations picking back up.

"Twenty-five minutes, sweetie. Runnin' on about twenty-four now." The man with the tattoos hollered.

All you could do was slump, bathing in the unthinkable dreads this day would bring. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are with chapter two. I gave the tags some sprucing up because I don't want any triggers to go off. Oh, and please don't worry about the Chucky Fandom. I don't know who all has seen[The Cult of Chucky](https://www.google.com/search?safe=strict&sxsrf=ALeKk00Hmd_8otOc3Yszpk2JdE0bQP-KOw%3A1585706828039&ei=TPeDXo35AdLAsAWkl5ioBA&q=the+cult+of+chucky&gs_ssp=eJzj4tVP1zc0TDYqNC7LTbcwYPQSKslIVUguzSlRyE9TSM4oTc6uBAC7zQs8&oq=The+cult+of+c&gs_lcp=ChNtb2JpbGUtZ3dzLXdpei1zZXJwEAEYADIFCC4QkwIyAggAMgIIADICCC4yAggAMgIIADICCC4yAggAOgQIABBHOgcIIxDqAhAnOgQIIxAnOgUIABCDAToFCC4QgwE6BAgAEEM6BAguECc6BwguECcQkwI6BQguEJECOgUIABCRAlCEcVi0hwFgqo8BaAFwAXgAgAGQAYgByAqSAQM1LjeYAQCgAQGwAQg&sclient=mobile-gws-wiz-serp#wptab=s:H4sIAAAAAAAAAONgVuLVT9c3NEw2KjQuy023eMTozS3w8sc9YSmnSWtOXmO04eIKzsgvd80rySypFNLjYoOyVLgEpVB1ajBI8XOhCvHsYuLIL0stKstMLV_FIqjE75SakZmXEpKRGpycmpdavIpFTEnELTMntxhEBCQWpeaVuJdmpqSuYpFUEg_LLC5NzAnPL8p2Sc1JLUlNgWhaxCpUkpGqkFyaU6KQn6aQnFGanF0JAOnpYAjIAAAA), but I wanted to insinuate the main victim Nica Pierce because she was accused of murdering half her family so why not stick her in here, huh? She won't be anything major in the story. I just wanted everyone to know that :)

The food you were so graciously given was just as boring and as bland as the very concrete and brick walls that surrounded you were. With an added loneliness, you could spot a fleck of pepper here or there in the potatoes or odd, green veggie sludge. It didn't necessarily taste bad. It was just like how any random food was supposed to taste. Besides, there was a lot of it. You couldn't even finish half the plate before your heavy belly was shouting 'stop'. With a sad pout, you wished your cell mate could have at least taken a few bites. He was definitely big enough to finish off what you had left.

In your wait, trying to ignore all the nasty talk of demented prisoners, you couldn't help but to wonder what was to happen today. Common sense screamed at you that it was nothing good, but the last bits of hope in your heart begged that there may be some way to survive this unfair torture. A thousand questions barked inside the anchorages of stress your aching head contained, adding to the weight of your terror. That man with the haunting tattoos and intentions had been standing up, gripping tightly onto the bars of his own cell and staring right at you. His eyes were relentless. They never turned away, burning blisters into your side as you remain tense in discomfort, knowing that there was no way to dodge what was sure to happen soon.

The sounds of guards and rattling keys made your eyes large and throat thicken. You watch in growing anticipation as they walked spontaneously down the hallway, flooding it. One by one the horrific sound of cell gates opening happened, and prisoners began to head in the opposite direction than the guards. They shouted, saying dirty, incomprehensible things. You honestly didn't want to hear or understand them, but a few things were irresistible as they floated in your ears, causing you to grimace. As you gaze out, you noticed that it was only the men they were releasing. Not... women.

Releasing a small noise of curiosity, you stood up and walked a small ways to the cell bars, trying to look out and get an idea of what was happening. Men in white jumpsuits walked past, arguing, shouting and making lewd comments about the most random things. Guards, spry and efficient, quickly unlocked cells, released the prisoner and moved on. You didn't think it had even been a full two minutes before the traffic started to slow down and all the male prisoners released.

You kept looking down the hallway, mindlessly stepping forward to see better. Besides the occasional power-walking prisoner rushing down the hall, the guards appeared to be fading in the other direction, becoming less and less clear the longer you looked. Strange, you thought. Where were they going, and why weren't they releasing the wom-

You sharply released a noise of pain and fear as a hand came from out of nowhere, grabbed your collar and yanked you forward, crushing you against the hard bars of your cell. The right side of your face stung as you wildly blink open your eyes, gasping at the sight of the tattoo man. "Fucking finally," He growled and looped his other arm in through the bars, trapping you against the cage by your waist.

"N-no, stop!" You cry, heart pounding furiously as you try to push away, "Get away from me!"

"Uh-uh-uh, little lady, you're mine now," You gasp in horror, feeling his erection probing over and around your pelvis. His face drew closer, breath stinking of rotten teeth and old food as he smirked, searching for the buttons of your jumpsuit, "I'm gonna make this whole damn prison see that your mine. All fucking mine."

"No, stop, let go of me!" You squirm around violently, eyes watering as you shout, "Help!"

"Alright, Morgan, get off of her," Demanded a high authority voice, far more calm than you would have liked.

The tattoo man growled, yanking you close and roughly squeezing your waist and breast through your thick clothing. You cry out in pain, trying your hardest to tear free. He was no quitter, however, and you found yourself on the verge of having a mental breakdown. Eyes clenching shut and mouth wobbling, you were given a chance to finally breathe straight whenever the man was suddenly pulled away, his arms jerking off of you.

You gasp, stumbling back, shaking and making immediate noises of relief and mortification. Thank all it was over, but damn all that it had to happen to begin with. You nearly sob, eyes fresh with watery sorrow.

"Just you wait, little girl!" You cringe, arms hooking around yourself as you curl amongst the wall, "I'm not fucking done! I'm gonna make you scream, you hear me?! You're gonna fucking scream until I fuck the shit-"

His words were cut off. You didn't know how, but you were thankful they were. As you recover in your lone spot, the cell door opened revealing a guard and another man dressed in a much fancier uniform. "(y/n)," The fancy one cleared his throat and bowed his head in your direction, "My name is Dawn; I'm the warden here at ArmorReign."

The warden? You question while trying to regain your composure, staring at the nicely dressed man. He looked more like a military accountant what with his stubby, blond, buzz-cut hair, nubby beard and camo-green clothes. His jaw was set straight and blue eyes serious, showing the fearless authority in them.

Still somewhat afraid to speak, you nod courtly, fighting the lump that was swollen thick in your throat. You watch as he took a few steps forward, gesturing to the outside of the gates. Guards were beginning to shuffle down the hallway again, but this time each carried something in their arms. It looked like... folded clothes?

Your answer came when the guard who was aside the warden stepped forward and presented you with a fresh, neatly folded set of clothes. You made a noise of shock and lifted out your quivering arms, taking the clothes with a small, "Thank you."

The guard nodded, looked to the warden and walked out. You watch him go, feeling somewhat tense in the moment.

"Since it is your first official day, I'd like to go over how things work around here. Sit down for a moment," The warden walked to the front of your cell as you sat down on the cot, holding the clothes in your lap. He gazed out the cell, his eyes glistening handsomely in the light, showing that he had obviously witnessed a lot in his time.

You blink, feeling a touch of empathy. You knew what it was like to be in distress....

"Each day starts out with everyone getting their breakfast delivered to them. We apologize that yours came a little late today, but that's just how things are sometimes," He rolled his head, looking at you like he expected you to complain or argue, but all you did was nod in understanding so he continued, "After breakfast, the male prisoners are taken away for courtyard first while the females are given their new uniforms. After that, they too are sentenced off for courtyard. It'll last about two to three hours depending on the day, and then lunch will be taken in the cafeteria."

He walked sublty from side to side the whole time before pausing and gazing down at you. "Since you're new though, I'm gonna let ya skip courtyard today, but, you will be expected to attend lunch and do purgatory."

"Purgatory?" You ask with a squint in your eyes, obviously confused. Maybe you misunderstood him.

He nodded, "Yes, purgatory is what we refer to cleaning as around here. After lunch, you and the ladies will perform enhanced cleaning all throughout the AR. Depending on if we're having a good day, dinner will be held either in the cafeteria or in your cells."

You took the information in, thinking that maybe it didn't sound too awfully bad. Of course, cleaning a prison wasn't anything ideal, but it was better than being surrounded by a bunch of deranged, horny men. "Thank you," You say softly, looking up at the warden with appreciation for his patience and will of explanation.

He huffed and shrugged, looking down at the contents in your lap, "That uniforms got a anti-rape proof lock on it. If ya put it on real quick, I'll show ya how it works."

"Oh," You say, cheeks turning pale at the realization that they actually gave the women rape protection devices, "Ok..." You look down at your freshly folded uniform, fixing to take the one you had off before noticing that the warden was still looking at you. "Could you... Could you turn around, please?"

The warden made a rough face and sighed through his nose, but complied anyway. "This ain't a modesty school, little lady, this is prison. You ain't gonna be seeing this nice treatment often, ya hear?"

"I understand," You say softly, cheeks red as you undressed. Guards walked by quickly, but you try to ignore the possibility of them looking in your cell as you focus on getting the next uniform on. It was heavy, made of tougher material, you noted, struggling to button it up. Once you did, you saw that there was a hard, wobbly black trinket at the top.

"Um, excuse me, sir, I'm not exactly sure what to do with this part," You speak, gazing down at the dumbfounding contraption.

The warden turned around, having read your mind as he held a strange black device in between his fingers. He walked forward, grabbing your collar and pushing the black trinket down against the other side. He pressed it against a particular black bar on the other side of the jumpsuit and placed the key inside, making the motion of locking something in place. You stand as motionless as possible, awkwardly holding your hands at your sides. "There. Now no one should bug ya too much with that lock in place, but if ya gotta go to the bathroom, make sure ya ask one of us or else... I think you know."

He pocketed the funky device and turned toward the cell gate, "Now, we'll be back in about two and a half hours to take ya to lunch. Try not to get too excited while ya wait."

After fiddling with the weird device on your collar, you sprint forward before he could lock the cell. "Sir," You grip a bar and gesture to the end of the hallway, curiosity burning inside you, "Who were those prisoners? The ones with the chains, who were they?"

"Oh them?" The warden huffed as he locked the gate back into place, "Those are solitary prisoners. Ya know, the ones we gotta keep a closer eye on. I wouldn't worry too much about em. Mostly you'll see them in the cafeteria or before bed. They ain't too bad unless ya bother them."

"So that man who came here... He's solitary?" You ask, voice shaken by his explanation of the quiet prisoners.

"Michael? Yes, he is," The warden answered.

Your heart was eagerly pounding to know more. You turn your head down, gazing at the ground as you timidly ask, "What... what did he do?"

The warden only made a face of disappointment, "I'm afraid that's classified information, little girl." 

With that, he was gone, moving on down the hallway. You stood watching for a few minutes as guards and female prisoners began to make way for what you assumed was courtyard. The ladies, unlike the men, were more quiet and contained. Some talked and said things out loud, but they mostly remained stoic and serene; something to be thankful for, you guessed, thinking about the information you had received.

By default, you knew there would be consequences such as courtyard and the whole purgatory/cleaning situation, but you hadn't expected solitary prisoners to be a thing. What did they even mean by them being solitary? Was it because they were bad or mentally ill? Did they just need the alone time? Or could they not be trusted with other inmates as much?

That last thought made you shudder. You shared a cell with one. Michael? The warden hadn't spoken much of him, but that look on his face didn't deny that what Michael did was bad. Although he hadn't even laid a finger on you, the tension was still somewhat choking, and would continue to be even more so if he showed up again tonight. You gazed at the floor, unaware of how long you had actually been staring before feeling a waver in your knees.

Right. You hadn't slept last night. Well, despite efforts, you weren't really in the most easy state of mind. In fact, you felt even more uneven and disheveled. Fear was inevitable now. Absolutely unshakable. You had nothing to do and no where to go. Sleep might as well be a backhand joke.

You gaze over at the cot, seeing the ruffles in the sheet from where your cell mate had slept. You wondered when he might be back. The fear of him showing up while you were most vulnerable making you fret. No. It was still too risky, you sigh as you sit down on the bed, eyes aching.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Whenever guards finally came in and announced lunch time was here, you had to shake yourself to rid the drowsiness threatening to take over your exhausted body. They barked at you, urging you to hurry it on so that they could do cell inspections and cleaning. You grimaced at their rough behavior. Unnecessary rudeness wasn't something you had ever been good at handling. Some times the most simple comment could hurt your feelings or be taken the wrong way inside your head. It was just your nature.

You stiffly gaze around as you were led down a multitude of hallways, some containing cells and others anonymous doors. There was a medical service room that looked filled to the brim with all kinds of different people, inmates and guards alike. An emergency detention center. The purgatory room. Several private offices. And last but not least...

The cafeteria.

Your eyes widened at its mass. Big, long tables stretched out in repetitive patterns amongst the large room. The walls, just as depressingly grey as the concrete floor, adorned posters with guidelines, rules and other useless praise. The majority of the room held a good amount of men who were already sitting down and eating while women were still lined up to get their food. You look to the left side of the room where kitchen chefs handed out single trays of food to the women, and watched as they walked away in groups of five.

The guards behind you gave you a nudge and you immediately took forward to the line, tensing up at being in public danger. There had to be way over a hundred people in here, and all of which held no good intentions. You stood behind a tall broad woman, feigning quietness such as what a mouse would have, and tried to remain unnoticeable. Maybe then no one would bother you.

The line moved quickly much to your dismay. Everyone being so precise and experienced gave you migraine like tension. You wished that there was someone out there in the same boat as you, someone who could understand and guide and help you through. But it was rumored that this prison held some of the countries deadliest killers, and that its nature wasn't entirely justified. They did things that went against big, important rules. What rules? You did not know, but had an idea that the mixing genders was one of them.

The whole time you had been in line, no one had said a word to or bothered you. A major relief until they finally shoved a tray in your hands and commanded you to scram. You winced and did so, heart pounding in fear as you gaze upon the room, going in a mindless direction of a somewhat empty table. It was getting filled on the ends mostly, you noticed and looked to the middle of the table.

There was what looked to be a bald headed man sitting there all by himself, elbows laying on the table and posture slack. You smiled, feeling a touch of serenity in your heart as you made way toward him. Upon closer inspection, you saw that his skin was a dark pale white, almost grey, the left side of his head and neck decorated in deep, wicked scars. He was wearing one of the solitary uniforms. A touch of nervousness pecked you, but you tried to stick strong to your positivity.

Stopping just a few feet away to insure safety and personal space, you suck in a deep breath and say softly, "Hello."

It took a moment. At first you were unsure if the man had even heard you, but eventually you held your breath and suppressed the urge to waver your smile as he slowly turned his head back slightly. And the sight you saw nearly made you drop your tray. It took positively everything you had not to lose yourself by making a face or stumbling backwards. The man's eyes were terribly uneven, his lips parted and lopsided, and his skin a mess of unnatural color and scars. Even through the mess of his face, you could see the rough, furious, hateful expression he was probably waiting to unleash behind those poor eyes.

You kept your smile forcefully secure even as you released that long held breath by asking in your soft voice, "May I sit with you?"

You blink, watching in painful nervousness as his lips closed and his somewhat good eye noticeably squinted at you. He stared for a few more moments, his intense eyes cutting into the edges of your soul. Sweat began to bead in random areas of your body as the thoughts of being hit or thrown across the room flashed in your mind.

In the peak of your silent panic, the man slowly turned his head back to the table and made a clumsy shrug of his shoulders. Relief like no other settled deep into your bones and you were able to relax, breathing out a truly thankful, "thank you," before setting down your tray and swinging your legs over the bench to sit down. Out of security and politeness, you gave him his space, simply holding your hands in your lap as you stared down at your full plate.

Honestly, you weren't that hungry. Sure, you felt like you could at least eat a few bites, maybe even drink some of the water or milk they provided, but the will power inside you was defeated by the stamina it was taking not to crash down in fear and misfortune. You closed your eyes, body sore from how tense you had been, especially from sitting on the hard floor all night.

"Hey cutie," Said a rough, turgid voice that made your heart still in the cage of your chest.

You opened your eyes and snap your head to the left, nearly gasping at the sight of a rather runty looking man with long, black shaggy hair and a braided beard. His face was littered with pick marks and scratches. His skin almost dark pink in certain areas. He was smiling in a not so inviting way, his hazel eyes promising things you didn't want to imagine nor discover the meaning of.

"Hi?" You respond in your quiet, shy voice, shoulders tensing up.

The man scooted closer all the sudden. Too close. On instinct, you shuffled in the opposite direction, trying to keep the private bubble distance contained. He lifted his hand out, uncaring of your silent gestures as he moved closer once again. "Well ain't you just the prettiest thing my big dick ever did get hard fir?"

You cringed as he tried touching your face, scooting away and accidentally feeling something nudge against your back. Gasping, you whipped around, looking apologetically up at the bald man and trying not to pass out in the bizzare situation. Knowing that this shouldn't be any of his problem, you scoot back towards the shaggy man and said shakily, "P-please leave me alone."

"Not a chance, cutie," He said harshly, about ready to roughly grab you by the shoulders-

Until suddenly a bigger, much more frightening arm moved around you, pulling you close to a big, intimidating, warm presence. You made a small, surprised "oh" at the suddenness, quickly looking up at the bald man and going still despite your vast trembles. He wasn't looking at you or even the shaggy man, just simply holding his arm around your side and gazing at the table. Confused, you look to the shaggy man only to see that he had scooted a rather far ways back, looking both frustrated and insecure.

Realization settled in at an alarming rate, making you instantly relax. The bald man wasn't trying to hurt you, he was trying to... protect you. You let out a shaky breath, body busting harsh trembles at the fate you would have suffered if it hadn't been for the balled man. When you looked back at him, he released your side and put his arm back on the table, seemingly uninterested and unamused. You stare enviously in awe, bowing your head and mumbling a small, "Thank you."

He merely shrugged in response again, but this time, he didn't look away. 


	3. Chapter 3

You resumed your formal staring at the tray in front of you after a somewhat achieved, somewhat failed conversation between you and the bald man was settled. You had very politely told him your name. He looked at you, his one sagging eye almost making a tremor run through you and you had to contain your conscience. He might look underwear-wetting scary and mean, but that's just how he was constructed. You had to stop worrying yourself so much. Just because he was solitary doesn't mean that he was entirely bad.

Afterwards you had tried asking for his name, but his eyes slowly maneuvered back to the shiny surface of the table. Your heart dropped in faint sadness at the rejection, but you quietly speak anyway, "It's alright. You don't have to tell me."

And it was alright. People's business was their own, their right and only a privilege if they say. No matter your burning curiosity or desperation to make a friend, you had to be patient and kind. This place didn't seem filled with a lot of open minded people, nor safe ones for that matter, so you had to be careful. Yet you felt the sadness still seeping in anyway, and alongside that came the battle waves of hopelessness your shattering optimism was trying its hardest to keep back. It all collided and crashed inside you, twisting your emotions like a flipping car inside your chest. Common sense breathed menacingly at you that there would be no escape, no hope, no way to make any of the bad things you knew were going to happen go away. You couldn't hide, couldn't run, couldn't reason. You were basically just meat on a hook and, like the humorous guards said this morning, food for the prisoners.

You ended up resting your head over your arms on the cold table after pushing your tray forward. Water was the only thing you were interested in. Nothing else really mattered. Not even the mashed bananas which looked like they had been mixed with snot could change your mind. You blink a couple times, zoning out the vigorously loud, obnoxious cafeteria talk and focusing on your tense, sore body. Spending all night on a cold, hard floor was not good for you, especially since you hadn't gotten a blink of sleep. You yawned lightly into your elbow and snuggled your face in, trying to soak up the heat there while you rested your tired eyes.

For a few moments you were actually able to feign peace through all the noise and anticipation. You breathed in content as everything started to go blank. If it hadn't been for the sudden arm that wrapped around you again, blissful ignorance would have pulled you into a cloud of black and kept you from knowing about the potential danger you were in.

Humming, you blink open your tired, heavy eyes, look to the arm around your waist and then up at the big man beside you. He was glaring at something. Not you though. You were too short, so you followed the direction of his glowering gaze and soon found your eyes widen at the figure sitting just a couple feet away from your left. Dark curly hair, scarred brown eye, intimidating broad build. It was him. Your roommate. You look to him with a small smile that fell at noticing how he too was glaring just as coldly at the man on the other side of you.

In a small burst of panic, you look to the other man and say softly, though the desperation in your tone was still evident, "It's alright. He's my roommate." You smile and look at the man who you had shared a cell with and say carefully, "His names Michael."

In a split second, you saw the smallest hinted curve to Michael's lips as he gazed from you to the man beside you. You squint at the oddness but made a small noise between a hum and a whimper when the bigger man's arm retreated from your side. Honestly, you were a little crestfallen at the loss, but remembered that you were here to make friends. "Thank you though," You smiled up at the bald man, "I really appreciate it."

He shrugged in response.

You looked back to Michael and fidget gently, eyes lowered as you softly speak, "I saw how the guards were treating you this morning... I'm so sorry that they do that. No one should be treated that way." You felt a small heat rise to your cheeks, knowing that you were trapped between two very big and very intimidating men who could take advantage any time they wanted to. Plus, in the darkest cages of your chest, you kind of found them a little bit... attractive.

You try to bite back your timidness, your finger tips pressing together as you gather enough courage to look back up at the mammoth of a man you call a roommate. "The Warden said that you were solitary, but... not much else," You breathe in a secretly deep breath, hoping that you weren't pressing delicate buttons that would get you hurt, "Do... Do you mind if I ask where they took you?"

You were now intersecting your fingers, pressing your thumbs together tightly as you will yourself to keep looking at Micheal. His eyes were like scrolls of deadly secrets that made your cheeks burn and your heart pound. Honestly, your heart had been pounding since the moment you learned Michael was here, and it wasn't getting any better with the flimsy conversation you were trying to make. His eyes were killing you with the way they continued to bore into you, staring like there might be a window to a whole new world somewhere on your face.

You were about to look away and apologize for asking like you had done with the other man, but Michael surprised you by shifting outwards a little, and lifting out his left arm. You make your small curious hum and look forward as he pulled the sleeve upward slightly to reveal a dark yellowish green bruise adorned with small, barely noticeable dots on his wrist. Plus the white, printed bracelet helped to even out the odds.

You cover your mouth in repulsion and sadness, lifting out your hand and whispering brokenly, "Oh my..." You release a small, shaky breath at the sight of the poor, bruised flesh and how cuff marks forever scarred his tough skin. You restrain from reaching out to hold his hand to comfort, and look into his eyes, "They did this to you?"

Michael moved his sleeve back up and made a vague gesture to the other man sitting beside you. Blinking in confusion, you look at the bald man and see his mild shrug as he gazed away and presented his arm. It was just like Michaels, if not worse. The skin even had a tone of purple to it, and the cuff scars stuck out impeccably. You had to mentally keep yourself from breaking down.

"Oh my gosh," You breathe and look between the two of them, "That's not right. They're hurting you, that's not right... Why?... Why are they hurting you?"

There wasn't any sense in it. You knew some prisons were out of line with how they treated their inmates, especially when it came down to peculiar ones. Health institutions and mental wards were the worst with how they treat their patients and some times even experiment on them. Honestly, you just saw those sad, pathetic places as human zoo's where doctors and nurses like to see how well contained they can keep their prisoners, and also how wild they can truly make them act. Torture. Pure and utter torture. And while you didn't have extensive knowledge on the situation at hand, you had a few small ideas.

Michael simply stared at you. The other man had his arms resting back on the table. Neither one answering nor speaking a single word to begin with.

You wilt in sorrow for their part, and gaze back down at the edge of the table as your fingers brushed gently against each other. "I'm sorry... You two don't deserve this, and I hope that there's a way you'll be treated better," You say to both of them, feeling their eyes slowly moving back upon you and tensing a little, cheeks warm, "I think you're nice."

It was the closest implication to friendship you wanted to give right now. You still didn't know a scratch about them besides Michael's name and their solitary aspect. Plus they weren't talking and you didn't have the guts to ask why in case it was personal. They could speak up whenever they were ready. You wanted them to know that you were patient and accepting. You didn't know what it was, but there was something about the two of them that made you feel... off. The bigger one had let you sit by him and even protected you while Michael pinpointed your location and came to sit by you. And if you really started to dig, you wondered if maybe they knew each other directed by the fact that Michael knew the bigger man had track marks as well. Or maybe it was a solitary deal. You weren't sure. 

Before you could get any response, a loud voice that seemed spontaneous and carefree in its dramatic nature boomed to life behind you, and you jerk in startlement at seeing Michael suddenly bend forward as an arm slung over his shoulder and neck, "What's up my hoes?"

There was a small growl as Michael roughly shook the arm off and the stranger bounced back laughing. You flinch and look back to see a young man whom seemed to be in his early twenties. He wore a plain, dusty white uniform like you, was average amongst height, had slightly long, dark blonde hair, and light brown eyes. He was rather spry with his body language and appeared to be playful in physical posture.

"Awh, I was just messin' with you, Mikey, come on," The young man lifted his hands up in carelessness and waved at the air. He laughed a little bit more to himself, seeming to get ready to say something else until his eyes caught sight of you and instantly brightened, "Well, well... what'da we got going on here?"

You tensed a little, unsure of what his motives were, and uttered a small gasp when you felt the big man's arm slip back around you again. You looked back at him, and saw a different glare on his face than the one he bore with Michael. It was more annoyed, more.… more threatening. You shuddered a little and look back when the stranger began laughing, his hands raised in a mockery of defense.

"Ahha, whoa now, Jason," He laughed, "No need to go bad boy on me, I ain't gonna mess with her.... Jus' wanna say hi, that's all." He moved his hips a little, eyes tracing your body from head to toe before he gave his lower lip a little tickle with his tongue and smirked at you, "You gonna say 'hi', Jason's girl?"

"My names (y/n)," You inform with a court nod, "And I'm not his-" You suck in a breath, having just registered in your brain what the stranger called you. Blood immediately rushed to your cheeks and you part your lips in a loss for speech.

The stranger slapped his knee and began another fit of laughter, "Well its nice to meet you, (Y/n)." He said, sounding rather sarcastic for all his efforts trying to seem... funny? You guess, somewhat repelled. "I'm Billy," He winked and looked between the two men on either side of you, "I see you've met dick bags one and two."

Your eyes slanted in anger before you jumped in shock hearing a loud slam against the table, and Michael's quickly moving body as he stood up straight. On instinct, you scoot back, sensing dangerous conflict starting to cook. After the movement you felt cushiony warmth press against your back and utter a small gasp, looking apologetically at the man you now knew the name to be Jason. But he wasn't looking at you. He was looking at them, and it's all the push you need to join.

Billy raised his hands up again and grinned half heartedly, "Heyyy, it's just a joke, Mikey, relax. I'm sure girly here knows that, right cupcake?"

You feel a lump in your throat, hating being the center of attention, but neither Micheal nor Jason was looking at you, and you thank the stars for that. However, the tension was butter thick and you uncomfortable as a fly in a web filled with different kinds of fighting spiders. You could get out, but you were too afraid.

Billy seemed to notice that Michael and Jason weren't taking kindly to his behavior at the moment, so he settled for a dismissive shrug and smile, "Alright, alright, I'll leave. But uh... don't expect me not to be visiting with you later on." Billy pointed lazily at you and winked a few times causing you to shift nervously. 

As the annoyance of a man walked off, you gaze up at Micheal who had his head lowered and fists clenched tightly at his sides. The sight made a lump grow in your throat as you see the fury in his motionless expression. It was horrifying. Obviously he didn't like that man, and neither did Jason by the way his fingers were still tightened around the tough material of your jumpsuit. You swallow, feeling bad for being a part of the reason their nerves had been stirred.

"I... I'm sorry," You look back and forth between them, showing the shame in your eyes, "He shouldn't have said those things... It wasn't right."

You winced when Michael threw his legs over the bench and began stomping off in a random direction, not once looking back. You covered your mouth with your knuckles, not even realizing that you had been trembling, and tried desperately to keep your eyes from watering. Deep down you knew it wasn't your fault but the doubt and guilt chewed on you anyways. You couldn't help but to take credit for Billy's inappropriate behavior, and how he had taken it out on what you thought would be your new friends. The misfortune a grater against the small hope in your heart. 

In junction, you couldn't help but to wonder if Michael was now mad at you. You closed your eyes and whined lightly, feeling your body grow cold with fearful intuition. What if he was so angry that he hurt you? What if he hurt someone else? What if... what if he killed you? No, don't be silly. You try telling yourself. Just because he was solitary and needed to be watched closer didn't mean that he went around body slamming the first person who ticked him off.

A gentle squeeze against your shoulder brought you back to life. You lower your hand and look back at Jason, your eyes wide and watery. He was looking in the direction Michael disappeared in, seeming to be non-affected in the moment before looking down at you. His overbite ceased as he tried giving you a comforting stare. You smile weakly and accept the gesture. Maybe Michael just had a slippery temper.

You definitely hope so.

Before you got to say or ask anything else, a whistle blew loudly from across the room making you cringe. Jason released your shoulder and you nearly collapsed in fear when he too stood up from the table. Instead of rudely stomping off like Michael had, he gave you a gentle look, giving off a hint of his overbite as his eyes fluttered. It actually looked kind of cute. You smiled at him, your eyes tired and adorned with stress. Yet still you kept your kindness, "It was nice meeting you, Jason." 

"Men to stations. Women to purgatory. Now!" The guards shouted through a whining microphone. 

You bit your lip and move your legs over the bench, getting ready to push yourself up until you saw the big, calloused hand lowered just before you. Blinking, you look up at the monstrous man and feel a light heat pooling in your cheeks. At first you thought he might be wanting something, but the look in his disfigured eyes suggested otherwise. "Oh," You say softly, biting the insides of your cheeks as you reach out your hand and place it over his, "Thank you."

His hand was big, solid and warm, enveloping most of yours as he gripped you gently and helped pull you to your feet. Nothing could stop the rosy blush that had spread across your face, and you try to keep your head lowered as he released your hand and turned in the opposite direction. Such a gentleman. You shake off the tingle in your heart and rub your face, hoping the coolness of your palms helped ebb away the heat. Well, you thought happily as you watch Jason walk off in the direction of every other grey suited inmate, at least you made one friend.

You ended up following the rest of the women to the room called 'purgatory' and felt your expectations surely crumble at the sight of dozens and dozens of cleaning product and supplies. The walls were bedazzled with shelves of it. As if experienced with it a thousand times, women lined up in expert columns and awaited the guards who hand picked supplies for them and instructed them where to go. It was rather mandatory you had to admit, but supposed they were used to it.

Once you were next in line, the guards paused and looked at you like some foreign spirit. You fumble nervously in their gaze as they leaned close together and mumbled something quiet.

"You're new, aren't ya?" One asked half expectantly, pointing a spray bottle at you.

You nod.

"Right," The guard thinned her lips together and gazed around as if she were frustrated. She searched the room, and you idly wonder what for until she randomly called out, "Nica!"

You nearly flinched at her high pitched voice, but searched around with her, curious to see who this 'Nica' was. The shady grey bricked room held an astonishing amount of women who chatted and scattered about. It could be any one of them. You lean forward, eyes wide as you continue to search for someone who stood out, unknowingly being approached from behind.

"Yeah," You hear a monotonous voice say, and turn around to see a young, skinny woman sitting in a wheelchair. She had discrete, bluish grey eyes with sluggish circles hanging beneath, light, curly brown hair that looked as if it could use a good combing session, and a frown that looked as low ranked as the rainy clouds outside. But despite her tired, monotone appearance, she seemed rather pretty and, you hope, nice.

"Take this girl to the washroom and show her how it's done why don't ya?" The guard waved dismissively at you.

Nica looked to you and broke out a kind, genuine smile in a second, and to that you smiled back. "Newbie, huh?"

You nodded, hands clasped together in front of you.

"Come with me," She nodded and expertly turned her wheelchair around, pushing it in the opposite direction of all the other vanishing inmates. You followed after, tempted to offer to push her chair for her but holding back for the meantime. She seemed kind so far but you wanted to wait and see what she was comfortable with first before making any progress you'd regret.

Hopefully. You crossed your fingers, hopefully you would make a new friend. 


	4. Chapter 4

"So what's your name?" The loud chatter and demanding rain of commands soon faded into a prestigious background melody as the woman in the wheelchair led you into a small room filled with unique cleaning supplies.

"(y/n)," You answer, impressed greatly by her skill moving around in the creaky, old chair. She must have had to adapt to it for quite a while now, "Are you Nica?"

"That's me," The young woman turned her wheelchair around to face you, hands falling from a shrug into her lap as she smiled, "Welcome to hell."

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, Nica," You smile back, eyes creased in appreciation at her kindness.

Nica's dark, bluish grey eyes squinted at you as she tilted her head in consideration. You weren't like all the other rude, disheveled freaks who when first dealt with usually ended up with a wheelchair wheel jammed straight into their delicate shin. "Ditto," She nodded, unable to keep from grinning, "The guards tell you how Purgatory works yet?"

You were rejoiced seeing the kind, accepting smile on Nica's face. Your heart immediately lifted with hope. Maybe you really could make friends here. "Just that we have to clean," You say softly, remembering what all the warden told you.

"That's about as much as I'd expect from them," Nica rolled her eyes and turned her chair a little, pushing herself over to a shelf to retrieve a small pink tub of cleaning supplies, "Right now everyone else is starting off in the cafeteria and bathrooms. Lucky for you though, we get to start in the washroom."

"The washroom?" You repeat, wondering what the difference between the washroom and bathroom was. And what could be so special about it anyway? Perhaps it was the fact that it would just be you and Nica.

Nica wheeled herself over to another section of the shelved walls in the small, grey room. "The showers," She explained while reaching up to grab a particularly large spray bottle filled with cleaner, "They really aren't that hard to clean. That's why they give me these bad boys."

You watch as Nica pulled out a chain with an arrangement of shiny keys on it. As she dangled them around in the air, her wrist became exposed showing off a set of colorful bracelets. "Those are beautiful," You mindlessly inquire.

"The keys?" Nica released a small laugh of confusion.

Uttering a small noise of realization, you shake your head and release a laugh of your own, "I'm sorry about that. I meant your bracelets- I think they're nice."

"Oh," Nica lowered her keys and gazed at her wrist, fingers lightly brushing over her unique collection of bracelets, a small look of both surprise and enlightenment taking over her face as she looked up at you and nodded, "Thank you, ha... I-uh... I made them myself."

"Really?" Your eyes widened in awe. Her bracelets looked to be made of small beads and braided string, their bright, iridescent colors captivating you greatly. There was nothing colorful here besides the eyes of your other two friends. It was nice seeing something uplifting like this. "You did a wonderful job, I really like them."

"Thanks," Nica grinned and shrugged her shoulders a little bit, "I don't know if you'd want to or not, but maybe some time I could show you how to make one."

"They let you do that here?" You ask in a small voice of disbelief. Honestly you thought she had merely brought the jewelry from home or something.

Nica nodded and reached up to pull another bottle of cleaner into the bucket on her lap, "Yeah. Every Sunday- if you've been good or not- the guards let us skip purgatory so that we can choose an activity to do. I made these and a few other things in the art room."

"Oh wow," You walk forward and reach down to take the slightly heavy bucket so that she could grab another one to fill up for herself, "That's neat. I wouldn't expect them to let us do stuff like that."

"They have all kinds of stuff from extra meals or shower time, to art, exercising or going outside or sleeping," Nica randomly explained as she grabbed the items she herself needed in preparation for the washroom, "They even allow provisional cell visits."

You were stunned by all the activities that they allowed here but remembered that it only happened once a week. That wasn't necessarily too bad. If purgatory lasted as long as you imagined, it might actually be worth a little art time or a calming walk outside. At least in some way you'd get to spend time with a new, fond friend. "What's a provisional visit?" You ask curiously, wondering if you could go to Nica's cell to talk or hang out in the future.

"It's like a conjugal visit," Nica said flatly with a bleak smile.

Immediate heat drowned your face in realization. "Oh," You say in a manner of hesitant acceptance, "That's nice...."

Nica chuckled at your reaction and turned towards the large, steel door in the back after she was finished gathering her supplies. "You have a cell mate by any chance?" She asked.

"Yeah," You answer happily, not particularly aware of the potential dread behind the circumstances of your cell mate who you felt no negative feelings for besides a reluctance towards his possible lack of anger control.

"What's her name?" Nica innocently asked, wondering if she knew the prisoner or not. She used her spry set of keys to unlock the large door.

Stepping forward quickly, you hold open the door for her with your back and hip, politely letting her enter the pearly white essence of the washroom. You nod to her thankfulness and mindlessly answer, "His names Michael."

The washroom wasn't entirely what you expected. For the most part it was huge. It looked as if it could hold up to fifty people or more. The floor curved down in three different sections in the middle so that water could drain as people walked by. Several stalls with plain, white curtains decorated either side of the large, plaster stone room. At least there was a minimal of privacy to be had during showers.

"Wait, so..." Nica had went limp after wheeling herself in a ways, arms drooping against the armrests of her chair, "Michael as in funny Michael or... solitary Michael?"

You narrow your eyes in confusion but remember what the warden had explained to you. Besides, there wasn't really anything funny about the Michael you had met, but there was something rather triggering about the worried expression Nica wore, "He's solitary."

Nica's body physically slumped back in her seat as her face instantly fell into a look of disbelieving concern. "Shit," She cringed after a moment causing you to jerk a little in surprise, "They actually put you with that freak?"

"Yeah... Why?" You asked, suddenly beginning to feel weighed down by the tub in your arms as fret filled your bones. You positioned it differently in your hands and gaze away hesitantly for a moment, "What's wrong?"

Nica engaged your ignorance with a tight lip bite as she ached to tell you what all she knew. "Look," She sighed and gazed down at the supplies in her lap, "I don't wanna scare you or anything-"

"You won't," You promise. Despite feeling edgy about her attitude towards the topic at hand, you felt mildly confident that Michael was somewhat a good person. Grannit the solitary, silent and ginormous aspects were rather frightful, but put aside he seemed to be an all in all collected person.

Nica gave you a tense look but figured if you were really that confident to know then she might as well say it, "I don't know if it's completely true or not but I've heard rumors that that Michael is the one who kills each and every one of his new cell mates."

The dread and shock that flowed through you was inevitable. You feel your eyes burn wide open in disbelief and recognized fear. "That's just a rumor though... Right?" You sputter in desperate yearning and hope that this may all just be false information.

Nica shrugged her shoulders as a small grimace of truth covered her face, "I wish it were, (y/n), but the proof is in his rep. If a prisoner has to wear a solitary uniform it means they've killed at least one person here at ArmorReign. That's why they have to be supervised during the day. They don't get purgatory or courtyard like we do."

Your eyes had to interlock with the ground as the given knowledge settled in like non-solidifying concrete. It was bizarre, especially as you thought back to Jason and how he had been so kind to you. There just wasn't any way for you to really believe that they were capable of such treachery. Or maybe they were completely capable of it and you just didn't want to believe it was true. After all, you did seem to make a small, comfortable alliance with them. Perhaps it wasn't overly stable but it was a beginning approach to something better in the future. Just a few seconds ago you had no doubts that your friendship with them could significantly broaden, but now....

You weren't sure how to explain the feeling washing over you right now. It wasn't necessarily guilt because obviously you didn't do anything wrong, but it was similar in the sense that you wanted to be friends with people who had killed others. Heck, you even found them attractive. These were bona-fide criminals that murdered people not just outside of the prison, but within it as well. They were cruel and ruthless. Your heart unconsciously ached for those who had lost their lives by their hands, but you knew nothing could be done about it. Fear that there was a very measurable possibility that they would hurt you remained penetrable by your strong will to provide hope that maybe they had no desire to do such thing to you.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Nica suddenly said, giving the silence a break from degrading the tense air, "If he hasn't touched you so far then I doubt he will later. He's a weird guy, you know? There's a lot of them around here..."

"You're right," You throw on a smile and set down your supplies, "He could turn out to be really nice."

"Ehh... I wouldn't count on that too much," Nica gave you a small cringe before gesturing to the mirrors, "Michael is like one of the worst inmates in this place."

"Really?" You feel your heart throb in discontent. Was he really that bad?

Nica stopped upon one out of the six large mirrors and pulled out a deal of cheap paper towels. "Yeah. Not sure what he did. Just know he's a dude you probably wanna avoid," She sprayed a large section of the mirror and got to work scrubbing it, "Honestly, if you can, you should probably stay away from anyone wearing grey. They're nasty."

"The solitary prisoners?" You asked curiously, intent on learning all you could both for your safety and advantage. Joining the mirror beside Nica, you copy her actions and begin working on the dry-water speckled glass.

"Yep. We've got em all from serial killers to child predators. See, ArmorReign doesn't do executions so there's plenty of crazy freaks here living life at the fullest without a care in the world," Nica smiled stupidly at the mention of such nonsense.

"Oh my," You say lightly, wondering just how many criminals had prospered here over the years. You end up cracking a small grin while asking jokingly, "Jeffrey Dahmer been here too?"

"You bet," Nica said caustically causing you to make a twisted face of disgust.

You wanted to say that it was horrible thinking that anyone in their right mind would want to let that creep live, but your open heart twinged in memory of the two men you so highly thought about. Who knew what horrors Michael and Jason had caused, all the lives they destroyed. A part of you tried to stay on alert in case their crimes were venereal or devious in the announcement of sexual gratification. You weren't experienced in the slightest when it came to intimacy, and you really didn't want that factor to be ruined because you dumped too much trust into people that were obviously dangerous and worth avoiding. If the guilt from wanting to be friends with them wasn't enough, the guilt from judging a criminal in the past was even worse, especially in comparison. But there was only so much knowledge and hope that you could cling to right now. You basically had no choice but to try and accept at least a few people here in this ludicrous prison.

Nica Pierce was definitely a good start.

Whilst cleaning the washroom, Nica unleashed a lot of useful knowledge to you and even sparked your interest in a position being her laundry partner in the mornings. She declared that she hadn't met anyone nearly as kind as you were and wanted to take any opportunity to get to know you and make your stay a little more comfortable. Your heart had brightened joyfully in recognition. Nica was incredibly kind and patient, and although she shined with an arua of depression and anxiety, she was still composed and knew what she was doing.

Apparently Nica's disability enabled her from going to courtyard or cleaning the cafeteria, so the warden put his trust in her hands when it came to the janitor keys. She had complete access to storage rooms and a few other places where cleaning supplies might be. Whilst she mainly did laundry during the day, Nica explained that some times she aslo got to clean out solitary dorms. An interesting activity that captivated you greatly. It would be nice getting to know her better, and the thought of skipping courtyard was pretty mesmerizing.

Cleaning the washroom wasn't too difficult. The most you had to do after cleaning the mirrors was refill soap and shampoo dispensers in the stalls, and clean up anything that seemed out of the ordinary. The job was simple and drawn out by your endless conversations with Nica. By the time guards came to check on you, they gave you both permission to shower early, gave you your night clothes and waited for you to finish washing before escorting you to your cells. Nica gave you her goodbyes and said that she would speak to the warden about letting you work with her some times. Happy with the ordeal, you both departed with a beginning bond of friendship.

When you made it to your cell, the guards escorted you inside and left without a word, their behavior much less demanding than yesterday. By the time your eyes made contact with the freshly made bed at the side of the room, true exhaustion sprouted to life inside your body, reminding you strongly of the sleep you had not gotten lately. Feeling heavier than a sack of coins, you drag yourself over to the bed and sit down. Michael wasn't here yet and probably wouldn't be for a while. Maybe in that time you could take a little nap?

Scooting over to the side closest to the wall, you lift up the blanket and move around one of the limp, fluffy pillows they provided and laid down. Immediately your body ached and swelled with need for rest, your red, tired eyes closing with a throbbing desperation to stay shut. You breathe calmly, trying to remind yourself that this was just a nap. As soon as you sensed the solitary prisoners coming in, you would get up and give Michael his space. But for right now... Rest.

* * *

When the guards escorted Michael to his night time cell, they were surprisingly quiet and undemanding with their process setting him free of the heavy, hard chains. Ignoring their questionable behavior, his eyes locked on your snoozing body lying immobile and silent on his bed. He stared, remembering how Jason had treated you in the cafeteria. What a show off.

Once the chains were free of his body, Michael slowly walked forward and approached the bed, eyes staring down at your sleeping features. You were laying on your side in somewhat of a hump position, the blankets lightly ruffled and stuffed between your legs. Upon closer inspection, Michael noticed that your soft lips were parted and a tad bit of your damp hair had fallen over your face. For a few minutes Michael proceeded to watch you, gazing at the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest and how your eyelids at times fluttered in a slew of unknown dreams.

It was well past the time when the secondary doors closed that Michael finally relieved himself in the steel toilet before splashing some water on his face and sitting down on the bed beside you. The force of his motions didn't do so much as even phase you. The only reaction he got was the closing of your soft lips and a small nuzzle against the pillow. Whilst sitting, Michael slowly leaned down and lifted his hand out, gently brushing that bothersome strand of hair from your face. Your skin was incredibly soft, he noticed with a twitch of his fingers. He blinked, eyes gazing from your peacefully snoozing face to your nimble hand sticking out from beneath the blanket.

Michael wasn't one for understanding much when it came down to physical contact outside the trauma category. Given that he did have a romantic partner, he still had no idea what women were like. But as he grazed your smooth knuckles, Michael couldn't help but to become transfixed and curious about how you functioned. You were graciously sweet and expressed little to no fear around him and Jason. It was confusing and kind of relieving in a way. Thus being thoroughly used to people shying away from them on sight, you were different. You didn't mind their reputation and seemed to express a fine level of... care towards them.

Removing his hand from yours, Michael released a small huff of breath and laid down, his elbow brushing your arm. You groaned a little but remain perfectly still nonetheless. Michael laid on his back, head turned so that he could look at you for just a bit longer before going to sleep. It would be easy to kill you, he thought briefly. Killing bed hogs and other rats that thought they could take command over his room was always fun. Yet with you here beside him, Michael felt no desire to participate in such unnecessary actions. Wouldn't be fun. Plus, Jason might become upset with him. And Michael didn't want that.


	5. Chapter 5

A ticklish itch at the bottom of your nose was what stirred you into clenching open your eyes with a small, deep groan. Dim lighting invaded your blurry vision as you rubbed your nose, body and mind polluted heavily with left over droughts of sleep. After satisfying the tickle on your nose, you yawn and stretch out a little, joints softly popping here and there as you relaxed back into the bed and snuggled your face into the pillow, intentions high set on going back to sleep.

That is until you moved your arm out and felt your fingers come into contact with something solid and warm.

Eyes squinting open, you blink several times and use your hands to push yourself up a small ways so that you could gaze at the snoozing man beside you. The drowning realization that washed over you was suffocating and had your eyes hooked open in major surprise. Had you actually slept that long? Looking around hurriedly, you try to find some way of figuring out what time it could possibly be. Yet the exaggeratedly dim lights revealed no secrets or answers. Only the deep, peaceful breathing of your snoozing cell mate provided minimal knowledge.

You had slept well past the time you intended to wake up. A part of you felt rude and selfish for succumbing into such drastic yet avoidable needs, but you were extremely exhausted and your body had a demanding will of it's own. Besides, your cell mate didn't seem to mind, you thought as you gaze at Michael's relaxed, sleeping features. His soft, light pink lips were parted, the left side of his face pressed into his own pillow while his eyes stayed still and serene. The dark brown curls of his hair decorated his forehead gently and was damp much like your own, presumably from a shower.

Even though your thoughts were mostly revolving around how to quietly get up and let him have his personal space, you couldn't help but to get lost staring at his strong, beautifully sculpted face. Even adorning a nasty scar on his left eye, his skin was still perfectly flawless and smooth, the plumpness of his lips something to truly admire. Although finely attractive, there was something significant about his aura that made him almost... Menacing. Whether that was the word for it or not, you did not know. Michael was mysterious, had a questionable temper and was quiet. His unpredictability made him stand out more than anything, and you found yourself stuck in a daze pit, unable to decide how to feel or act.

You wondered what he must have thought when he got here. The larger cell doors were closed which meant that he had definitely been here for a while now. How long had he been laying there, peacefully sleeping? Was he okay with you sleeping in his bed with him? Had his seemingly conflicting feelings revolving around the cafeteria incident faded? So many theories, probabilities and outcomes. You blink and let out a small yawn, one hand moving up to rub the back of your mostly dry hair. It felt like a mess. You hoped they had at least provided you with a comb in that little grey bucket under the sink.

Whilst you built strategies inside your head about how to slowly and quietly maneuver out of bed to use the restroom, the sight of Michael's hand moving out of your peripheral vision caught your attention. After gazing at his face to contradict whether or not he was still asleep, you curiously follow his hand with your eyes and feel your breath immediately get caught in your throat by what you saw. Beneath the rather thin material of his distressed, grey jumpsuit sat a more than obvious lump lying diagonally straight on his abdomen. It didn't take a genius to know what it was, especially as he used his hand to thoroughly drag across it, fingers flexing to give it a firm tug.

You hear a small huff tumble from between Michael's lips and flash your eyes up to look at his face. His mouth had closed and his eyelids had become vaguely more tense, but other than that he was unperturbed and worth declaring asleep. Feeling like an electric burner, you sense your cheeks beginning to sting dark pink as you gaze back at the man's obvious morning wood. You couldn't bear to look long though. Clenching your eyes shut, you release a shaky breath after several moments of holding the oxygen captive too long.

Never before in your life had you seen a man's sex, much less hard. While the idea of sharing a bed didn't much bother you, the realization that these random, uncontrollable moments would happen day in and day out made you extremely flustered. You felt improper, embarrassed, bashful and scared. So many thoughts raced through your head that you thought you might panic. Should you wake him? Should you cover it up with the blanket? Ignore it? He was merely sleeping after all.

Cracking open your eyes after hearing another small huff, you see that Michael's fingers were now thoroughly gripping himself through the thin material of his jumpsuit, the tightening clothes outlining his instrument way too rigorously. Closing your eyes tightly, you decide to turn over on your other side. Your bladder could wait for now. There was no way you were going to risk waking him up while he was... in the mood, you guess, and have to face the awkward reality of the overwhelming situation. You were too flustered and would probably end up stuttering like a complete idiot or pass out in panic.

As quietly as you could manage, you make haste to unnoticeably turn over, pulling the thin blanket up over your shoulders to cover your heated face as you stare harshly at the boring, grey wall. You were trembling in the faintest way, but you couldn't decide whether it was from fear, intimidation, excitement or confusion. Heck, it could be all your flustered emotions combined. Desperately you try to think about anything else that would distract your troubled brain from the images it had just taken in, but it was difficult when you could hear Michael's breathing become more excessive, and you could tell through the cheap mattress that he was beginning to move his hand more briskly.

This went on for a few minutes. You, lying as still as possible, face a flame and thoughts rattled from the flustering knowledge of what the man behind you was doing working his hand so quickly and breathing rough. Your eyes shot open when it finally stopped. The air that had been shooting firework tunes with the help of Michael's breathing became silent and still. There was a pause, and you blink many times while wondering what was going on. Had he finished? Was he awake? And most importantly, did he know that you were awake?

The bed dramatically shifted. It took every ounce of calcium in your bones not to jerk or move around like a disturbed animal. You stay still, eyes remaining closed as you try to mimic sleep whilst feeling the man standing up from the bed. Using this chance, you move your body around slightly, trying to get yourself to relax. His footsteps were brisk but soon stopped, and the sound of a zipper became a triggering source of knowledge. You feel your cheeks darken heavily if it were even possible considering how much you had already been blushing, and clench your eyes painfully shut as the sound of his urine stirred the desire to relieve yourself as well. Apologies to your bladder, but you were not moving an inch from your spot. Nope. No way. Not happening. 

After hearing a brisk flush of the toilet and rinse of the sink, you feel the ever expressive dip of the bed as Michael sat down to lay back. Staying still as you imagined him turning around to lay on his side, you ended up twitching in surprise when you feel his body press up against the back of yours. Hazy breath fanned your ear, a warm, strong chest enveloped your entire back, and a large arm came up around your side. Heart throbbing like a shook water balloon, you gaze down and watch his fingers creep up the expanse of your arm, stopping upon the back of your hand. Slowly he rubbed your knuckles, gently massaging them in such a way that made your throat choke up.

What was happening?

Wide awake and flustered beyond all recognition, you soon found yourself finally relaxing after realizing that Michael was no longer hard and seemed to have fallen asleep. His massage against your hand stopped and his head lowered further into the pillow, his breath thankfully no longer fanning your ear and causing your body to flower with goosebumps. Though still pressed against him, you found yourself accepting your fate, tired conscience returning to brush off the whole ordeal as normal, average male nature. The snuggling was strange and unexpected, but no doubt felt nice, so you might as well accept it.

* * *

  
The next time you woke up it was to an unfortunately empty bed. Your face was pressed hard against the pillow, hair bunched up and messy. The flush skin of your eyelids felt extremely heavy even though you imagined you got a lot of sleep. Absently turning over to your back was when the dissapointing realization settled in; your room mate was gone, the night time cell doors were wide open, and your tray of breakfast was sitting cold and lonely on the ground. Hastily rubbing your crusted eyes, you sat up and yawned before stretching out your limbs. Yesterday had been quite the day.

Remnants of hopelessness, frustration and semi-depression still nagged on you at the fact that you were locked up for a crime you did not commit. Whilst you would have frequent family members coming to visit often, there was little other comforts emitting from the bland walls of this awful prison. Making friends was a start and your only hope for pushing through this journey until they finally discovered that you were innocent... If ever.

Standing up, you wander over to the metal toilet and pause, gazing out the cell bars to see if anyone was walking by or watching. It was particularly quiet though, and what little of neighboring cells you could see were absent of any inmates. Had they already been taken to courtyard? Well, you supposed if they let you skip yesterday then there was a possibility they would repeat the notion again today. Not that you were complaining or anything. You relished the lack of pressure and work although the lonely, cold cell made you feel even more trapped. Hopefully Nica had spoke to the warden about letting you work with her. Lunch was already overwhelming enough. You didn't know if you'd be able to make it through courtyard.

After watching the hallway for signs of anyone walking by, you finally grow the guts to unzip your jumpsuit and sit down to relieve yourself, thankfully with no one passing by the whole time. Afterwards you washed your hands and crouched down to access the grey bucket beneath the sink. To your joy there was a hair-brush lying among the numerous sets of menstrual pads, toothbrushes, floss and even condoms. A bit dramatically prepared, but whatever. You grabbed the brush and work out all the irritating tangles in your poofy hair. Note to self: no more falling asleep with wet hair.

Once you were finished brushing your hair, you splashed some cool water on your face and walked over to the tray of food. It looked the same as yesterday. Just a bunch of random slops but only this time there was a juice box and piece of toast. Nice. You picked up the tray and brought it over with you to the bed, setting it beside you. Gazing down at the untouched food, you idly wonder if Michael ate whenever he was taken away to whatever place solitary prisoners went. Surely so if he was that big. Hopefully he had a good day and won't have to suffer anymore of those awful track marks.

A blush rose to your cheeks as you thought about much earlier in the morning when you had witnessed Michael's morning hardness. While it was presumably natural and understandable that he'd have his moments, you couldn't help but to get severely wound up and awkwardly flustered. Clearly such personal moments were going to happen. You just hadn't been prepared for it last night, and it was certainly not something you had imagined you'd ever have to be prepared for. Turning over to act oblivious had been a good idea, but you couldn't help but wonder what it was that woke him up, and more suspensefully, did he know that you were awake and aware?

Whilst that was it's own world of flustering wonderment, there was also the fact that he literally spooned you when he laid back down. Now if morning wood wasn't intentional, then that certainly was. Blushing to yourself like a middle-school girl, you couldn't help but to question whether or not there was a possibility Michael might like you. He hadn't forwardly acted out in any way brutal or rude, and his demeanor was for the most part serene, but there were those tiny, little details that were bringing an uncontrollable flutter to your heart. He sat by you in the cafeteria, he cuddled you while you were in bed, and the last thing... He hadn't killed you.

You weren't totally naive. You remembered what Nica had told you. Michael had killed every single one of his cell mates. How many and why were questions you could only guess and kind of didn't want to find the answers for. Fact of the matter is he wasn't harming you and that was that. You'd be perfectly fine with this simple companionship just as long as you were still breathing.

For a few hours you sat back in bed and drifted off into a world of stress inside your head. With nothing to do, problems and reality ganged up and became a throbbing beacon inside your mind. Desperately you ached for something to do, but other than eating and sneaking over to use the restroom, you were stuck dwindling in your thoughts and imagination.

It wasn't until one guard carrying your daily outfit arrived and ordered you to change that you finally found yourself hopping up and heading to lunch after he clipped the lock on and took your breakfast tray. Following the hallway that led to the obnoxious cafeteria, you feel your heart swell in hope for the sight of at least one of your two friends. People cluttered about everywhere, and while you were at most a social person, there were little folk you desired being social with in this place. A rain of endless arguments and agreements rotating around topics that made you sick to your stomach were unfortunately overheard as you waited in line to get lunch.

"Hi there," Said a fairly polite voice.

You twitch and turn around to see a man about your age with short black hair and kind, light blue eyes. His lips were drawn into a gentle smile of welcoming intent, and his head was tilted in the objective of interest. You feel your eyes widen as he gazed down and said in his polite voice, "I'm Stu."

Feeling heavily touched by his introduction, you found yourself grinning happily as you say back in mild shock, "Oh-I'm (y/n), it's nice to meet you."

The man looked up, his lips pursed as he gazed at you in such a way that made your cheeks burn lightly, "And what could a pretty, little lady like you ever do to deserve getting locked up in a place like this?"

You turn your head down at his question, wishing that you could rub your warm cheeks at his charming behavior, "I... it's not something I really like to talk about. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's alright- hey," He lifted his hand out, eyes widened in a manner of reassurance, "I get it, ok? You don't wanna talk about it, that's fine. We all have our dark secrets and we all get to decide when we wanna tell em. But if you ever need an ear or something, just say the word and I'm there- like zip!"

You giggle softly at the funny way he expressed his offer, his hand cutting through the air as he watched for your reaction. "Thank you for understanding. I'll... I'll let you know if I ever wanna talk," You nod and move forward in line with him.

"You know... I saw you sitting with Michael and Jason the other day," He suddenly laid out, his face calm but holding a certain amount of worry inside, "In my opinion, you should probably stay away from those guys."

"How come?" You ask, feeling somewhat annoyed that you were once again being judged because of the people you decided to stay close to. However, his concerned expression did make you slightly more curious, especially if you could find out more about Jason.

Stu shrugged and wandered forward as the line continued one step at a time. "It's just my opinion." He tilted his head and gazed in the direction of a random table, "Both those guys are monsters, especially when it comes to pretty, little girls like you. If I were you... I'd keep my distance."

His explanation was... horribly unbelievable. You squint your eyes and shake your head vaguely, not certain what to think towards that predicament. "But... They've been nice so far," You say more to yourself, thinking about how Jason had protected you yesterday.

"Now that's what I call buttering someone up," Stu gave you a knowing look, his eyebrows raised as he grabbed a tray and handed it to you, "I've seen them do it dozens of times. First they find little cutie-pies like you and then wind em up until they're under a false sense of security and then... Shklllk!"

You cringe whenever Stu dragged his finger across his neck, your heart beating slightly faster in junction with his words. It couldn't be true, you thought as your fingers gripped the tray tightly and your body remained frozen in place near the beginning of the tables. They couldn't be like that. It couldn't be true.

"You might think they're trying to watch over you, but that's literally just their own stupid way of showing their dominance over you," Stu lifted his finger up and made an alarming face as he said, "And right now, they've got you right under their belt."

Unaware that your breathing had become somewhat ragged, you ended up gasping in surprise whenever Michael showed up beside you. Jerking out of your frightened state of disbelief, you gaze at the brunette and notice that his features were leveled and threatening much like Jasons had been yesterday. And said dirty glare was pointed right at the man you had just met. Looking over, you see that Stu was smirking at Michael. Why? You did not know.

"Well (y/n), it was nice talking to you," Stu's smirk swapped to that of kind farewell as he gave you a wink, "If you need anything... just let me know."

Stunned and with rattled thoughts, you watch as the shorter man walked away to the table he had been frequently gazing at before turning your head to hesitantly look up at Michael. His eyes had thankfully softened and his features had relaxed, lips stuck in a firm line that was drawn more into a frown. Twisted up like a whirlpool by both this mornings events and the information you had just been told, you suck in a much needed breath and say timidly, "Hi Michael, is... Is everything alright?"

Michael stared at you with his insanely firm eyes before turning and gesturing in the direction Jason was sitting. "Actually..." You interject as softly and as politely as you could, "I think I might go sit with Stu today... He seems really nice. You can join us if you would like-" 


	6. Chapter 6

After you implied that you were very much happy for Michael joining you with accompanying Stu, you release a small gasp whenever the larger man raised his hand as if he were silencing you, but that didn't quite seem to be the case as he then gestured calmly back in the direction of Jason. You blink and look over at the implicated table, your heart twitching in faint sadness at seeing Jason sitting all alone and bored. You wondered if his appearance kept others from wanting to get close to him. Ridiculous and rude if that was true. You frowned momentarily and look back up at your cell mate, cheeks turning uncontrollably warm as you bow your head and smile.

"I'll sit with you," You say softly, heart fluttering greatly as you indulge the reality that Michael actually sought you out to sit with him and his, assumed, friend. "But first," You interject and point your bright eyes up at his nearly emotionless brown and milky blue ones, "Is it alright if I go talk to Stu for a moment? Then I'll come join you two."

There was a squinting of the man's eyes as he peered down at you, his chest rising with a smooth breath. You shift once under the intensity of his attention and question how he could seem so focused and yet appear not to care the slightest about anything. You didn't think about it too much though, especially as you watch him lift his head in the direction Stu had disappeared in, and a bitterness washed over his amazingly attractive facial features. He glowered for the split, most unnoticeable second and then relaxed completely, his shoulders lose as he nodded once at you.

Feeling satisfied and extraordinary relieved that Michael didn't seem to have a negative input on the ordeal, you release a small breath and feel your own body relax. Even though you wanted to believe better in these men, you couldn't help but to writhe in your faint and obvious knowledge. Michael and Jason had killed people. They destroyed lives. And you had no idea how or why. All you could do was guess and hope that your predictions and theories didn't backlash on you. Prison was a nasty, burning place filled with deceitful attitudes and loads of distrust and dishonesty. You hoped that by being kind and open you might be better treated.

It seems to have a somewhat positive effect.

When Michael stretched his hand out in reference to your tray, you release a small "oh" at his polite gesture and hand it over. Oh gosh. You hoped the red heat in your flaming cheeks wasn't too obvious. You blushed and bowed your head in a weak attempt at hiding your bashful face, "Thank you so much."

Michael took your tray into his hands, gave you a short, simple stare for a few seconds and then began to wander off in the direction of the other inmate Jason. You watch him go, your heart beating madly in ways you couldn't quite describe, and you felt silly because it was obvious what you were suffering from. A crush. Yes, a crush. Was it a healthy crush? Well, you weren't sure yet. All you knew was that any time you were around Michael, your heart fluttered like a summer butterfly and your cheeks would turn rosy pink in bashfulness, uncertainty and slight self doubt. And you weren't entirely sure, but you kind of thought you felt the same way towards Jason as well. They both were just so... Intimidating and at the least kind although they didn't speak much. 

This would have to be secret. Like, very, super, extremely secret. They could not know about your feelings. They probably were lightyears from feeling anything similar in return anyways. Besides, they were convicts. For crying out loud, you really needed to rediscover your humanity. They hurt people; that's why they were here in this absurd prison. But... All people were capable of great change. You feel your largely open heart and realistic brain fight a bickering battle inside your body. You couldn't help it though. While it was presumably the safest, most intelligent decision to think that these people weren't capable of anything greater than the trauma they caused, you would always believe differently.

Michael, Stu, Jason, and Nica might be labeled as dangerous convicts, but you had enough hope built up in your heart that they all could be better people if they had the proper will and motive to do so.

Taking in a deep breath, you turn in the direction of Stu's table, your mind bright and ready to make happy conversation. That was until you saw who exactly he was sitting with. It was that rude kid from yesterday. You flushed. Billy was it? He was standing right beside Stu who was sitting next to a few women who looked to be a tad bit older than you. They were laughing a lot, Billy seeming to be the main cause of it. You swallowed and tilted your head in uncertainty. You wanted to talk to Stu but seeing him so occupied and surrounded by other people, you felt dejected to do so.

You weren't in any way an antisocial person, but you weren't entirely fond of crowds, especially prison inmate ones. Plus there was the heavily empowering fact that Billy was one of the ones among them. And speaking of whom, just as you were about to turn away in the direction of Michael and Jason, your eyes were caught by Billy's wide, mischievous, brown ones. He paused his onslaught of jokes and stared directly at you.

Fiddling with your fingers nervously, you bit your lip and offered him a small wave and a tiny smile. You hoped that all you would receive in return was a kind wave, but hopes were at times disappointing to have. Feeling your body stiffen ever so softly, you fight against wincing whenever said man shied away from the table and began trotting straight toward you. Oh, if only your heart wasn't so kind. Then maybe you would have the self decency to walk away or pretend that he didn't exist.

"Hey girly," Billy moved a quick hand through his long, brownish blonde hair as he came to a stop just a few feet in front of you.

Hands intersecting together, you bite your lip and keep offering your timid smile, "Hi... Billy." You weren't one to personally hold grudges, but you couldn't help but to feel a liquid ball of intuitive acids bubbling within your stomach as you were left basically all alone with this suspicious inmate. And you weren't particularly fond of his attitude either. Michael and Jason didn't deserve it.

"What're you up to, huh? Surely you're not going over there with those dick heads," He asked with a casual amount of interest as he put his hands on his hips and licked his lips down at you.

You turn your head down slightly and tap your thumbs together, that same frustration from earlier eating on you like a roach. "I like sitting by them. Please don't judge," You look up at him and smile widely while gesturing to the table with your eyes, "Are you and Stu friends?"

"Are me and who friends now?" Billy sniffed and wiped his nose as if he had a bad case of allergies, "And hey, I'm not judging... Just don't want you getting hurt is all."

"I really don't think they'll hurt me so you don't have to worry," You say in stiff optimism, forcing yourself to stay calmly collected and wishing strongly inside that you could just go to your table and hide in between the safety of your friends, "And I was talking about Stu- that man you were sitting by?"

"What man?" Billy blinked in confusion and gazed back in the direction of the table he was sitting at, "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, girly."

You blink in confusion, your mind blooming baffled at the sight of the now Stu-less table. Where did he go? He was just there. Literally. You fluttered your lashes and gaze around. Maybe he had just hopped in to say something real quick to the group. But then... Where had he gone in such a rush? 

Billy lifted out his hand in a vague reference of brushing yours, his voice turning into a light, sickly sweet murmur as he gazed down in the area of your chest for a few seconds, "Look... I'd like to apologize for yesterday. That was a terrible introduction... So rude of me."

Feeling edgy about his alarming voice and targeting eyes, you turned more to the left and crossed your arms over your chest in a manner you hoped didn't seem too uncertain. "It's alright," You say softly, wanting more than anything to just get out of this awkward, uncomfortable conversation, "You shouldn't be apologizing to me though..."

"You really think those punk asses deserve an apology?" Billy's tone grew a razor thin sharpness to it, his blazing dark eyes going wide in repulsion for a few seconds.

You took a few steps back in retaliation and say softly, "I'm sorry. But I need to go."

"Whoa, hold on a second," Billy rushed forward and this time he did grab your wrist, his fingers cool and slightly rough causing you to cringe in alarm. He let go of you just a few seconds after flashing off his darkly seductive glare, "Why you leaving me so fast? I just wanna talk."

"I'm sorry, but I have to get to Purgatory early and I would like to be able to eat first," You kindly explain whilst trying to keep the panic and distress from the situation from leaking into your light voice, "Maybe we can talk another time?"

"How about now?" Billy reached out for your wrist again but you were able to swerve away in time for him to embarrassingly grab at nothing but the cold, thin air. Pretending to act nonplussed, he took a step back and said in that sickly sweet voice that made your stomach churn, "You can come sit with me, we can talk, hang out and maybe... do a few other things together."

Completely petrified and torn up by your rambunctious kindness and fear of his intentions, you slowly shake your head and say from nearly trembling lips, "Maybe another time... Bye"

Giving the man a small wave, you quickly turn around before he could utter anymore manipulative words and briskly make way for the spot between Michael and Jason. Thank goodness they were letting you sit there again. You sigh and move in between them, your body going lax and a long, shaky breath spilling from your lips. They were looking at you, but their curious glances did not bother you at all compared to the hard staring of Billy.

Sitting straight, you gaze at Michael and smile warmly, "Thank you for bringing my tray for me." You wait to see him do one of his single nods before looking at Jason and asking, "Do you two get to eat where they take you? If not, you can have some of my food... I don't mind."

Looking into Jason's deformed yet gentle eyes, you feel as though you could get lost in them forever as he blinked and nodded softly. "I'm glad," You say in relief and gaze back to your tray, your body feeling so weak, fragile and tiny between the two of them, but yet on the inside you felt as though you were clad in a suit of titanium armor. "Have you both had a good day so far?"

Jason's good eye glanced from you to Michael who was merely staring in the same silent astonishment, his bland eyes fixated on you. Tilting his head back, Jason nodded and lifted his fingers out in gesture to you. His eyes closed and opened in a manner of questioning.

"I'm happy you've had a good day. I have too," You say and remember what little you had actually experienced this morning. Putting away the fact that you now had ideal knowledge of how large the wood to your crush was, you had made a new friend although very brief and got to once again sit by your main friends. And to top if off, they both seemed fairly content and admitted to having a good day. How could things be more perfect in such a dreadful place?

"A girl named Nica told me a little bit about the prison yesterday. She told me that on Sundays everyone gets to do some sort of activity. Do you two get to do that?" You ask curiously and gaze from Jason to Michael, your cheeks beginning to darken at their constant attention.

Michael nodded his head once and you squint your eyes lightly at seeing his lips twitch as if he wanted to smile, his eyes flitting up to the other man beside you. Ok. You had a hunch that they already knew each other way before you showed up, but their sneaky, little exchanged glances were undeniably strange. It was like they were speaking telepathically or had mastered some form of facial sign language no one knew about. And if they sat by each other every day like you were beginning to imagine, then their friendship was most likely strong. Yet it was still quite mysterious. 

"I'm glad you get to do something nice every once and a while," You say softly and gaze back at your tray, fingers rubbing over your own wrist as you think about them, "I don't know a lot about solitary confinement here, but I have a feeling it isn't very nice, and I'm very sorry about that. I hope you two don't have to suffer too much..."

"Were the guards being mean again today?" You ask and point a hopeful frown at Michael who's calm yet menacing expression captivated you greatly, and you ask in even greater curiosity when he shook his head once, "Do they act that way all the time?" 

You watch as Michael shook his head once and slowly turned it to gaze at the blank table, one of his hands that had been resting on the hard surface now lightly picking at nothing in particular. It was odd. You feel your heart thud in sudden anticipation as you softly ask in a voice you hoped they understood meant that they clearly did not have to answer, "Did... Was there something you did to cause them to act like that?"

You watched Michael's fingers curl and straighten back out slowly as he turned his head more narrowly to the side, his eyes closing half ways in unknown emotion. You were about to apologize for asking but then ended up gasping whenever you felt Jason's arm slide around your waist, and you turn to see him almost dramatically nodding his head while pointing a tattle-tail stare at the other man beside you. Feeling your heart race with an incomprehensible amount of realization and disbelief, you immediately turn back to look at Michael, but the look on his face only caused you to raise your brow in confusion.

Michael didn't seem to be guilty, secretive, upset or angry. He just looked blandly unamused like a person who had been told the same joke over and over again, his bored eyes staring dumbly at Jason. Had Jason actually... teased Michael? You feel yourself think back to yesterday whenever it seemed as though Michael and Jason despised each other led by the burning glares they had exchanged around you. Was it all just an elaborate joke that you had gotten yourself caught into? Perhaps just a simple friendship where you were now a new mascot?

Feeling yourself smile, you tilt your head downward and blush, saying lightly, "I guess I have all the protection I could ever want, huh?" A big part of you ached extremely bad to reach your hand up and place it over the large one resting against your left side, but the reminder of your secret was set too strongly. It was just too risky.

"Whatever you did, if anything, I still don't believe you deserve to be treated like that," You say on behalf of Michael's part, your cheeks far too red for you to wanna lift your head up to gaze at either one of them, "And regardless of what a lot of people have told me... I trust you. Both of you."

Whilst your head was averted, Jason lifted his head, his one good eye wide as he looked at Michael who's expression was more composed yet still held a fine level of shock there as well. They stared down at you, Jason's arm flexing lightly around you. He could feel how your body went between tensing and relaxing, your muscles contrasting against his palm as he slowly moved a few inches closer to you, feeling your body stiffen ever so slightly. So fascinating. He blinked and gazed to Michael.

It took positively everything you had inside not to completely fall into Jason's warm, strong embrace, soak up his fine gentility and attention. What if Michael were to put his arm around you? Would it feel as magical as it did last night, or sit as just a mere tease like Jason who was oddly more expressive than the brunette? Either way, you really couldn't help but to enjoy the feeling, your heart drumming madly like a field of flowers blown around by strong, southern winds. Gosh, this was bad. You feel yourself grow flustered and try to bow your head even more.

Whilst in the midst of enjoying the attention, you nearly deflate like a stabbed balloon whenever Jason slipped his arm away from you, but the sight of his large fingers waving around in front of you stirred you from your flustered state and helped you to lift your head. Jason was looking down at you, and you were about to vocally ask him what was wrong until you saw his hand move out onto the table, his fingers gently nudging your tray before gesturing back to you. Oh. Was he... wanting you to eat?

"Oh, I... I'm not really that hungry," You say admittedly because it was true. Breakfast was much more appealing than lunch and filled you up enough to last till dinner. But it was really sweet considering that Jason was thinking about you. "Either one of you can have it or you can share it together. I don't mind-"

"Hi Michael," Cut in a feminine voice that was slightly more deep and more... seductive than yours, and you looked back out of reflex to see a tall woman standing with her foot up on the bench beside Michael. She had long, straight black hair, dark blue eyes and signs of tattoos littering her neck and wrists. She was older than you, and had a body that could make role models blush.

She looked at you for a split moment, her eyes squinting in disinterest before she cocked her hip further out and smirked at Michael once again, "What're you doing wasting your time here for when there's already plenty of me going around for you as it is?"

Feeling your cheeks flush like dry ice dropped into hot water, you feel part of yourself crumble whenever Michael bowed his head and stood from the table in an almost heated manner, his facial expression unknown as he turned in the opposite direction of the woman and began to walk away. You blink in confusion and slight disappointment, your body deflating drastically as you watch her immediately flee after the man. As you followed them with your eyes, you ended up meeting Jasons and feel yourself ask uncontrollably, "Is she a friend?" 

Jason shook his head and made a rather ungraceful snoot as he glared in the direction the other two walked off in. "Oh..." You say, unsure of what that could mean, but considering the fact that Michael had actively gotten up and walked away, plus Jason's non-content reaction to the lady in question, you began to wonder whether or not she was possibly a predator. She did have a grey jumpsuit on.

Of course a piece of work like Michael would have... Fans. What did you expect? You feel yourself begin to slouch with self doubt. He basically had all he could want here. You weren't sure what kind of convict he was or what his taste in women were, but you were sure you'd definitely be the last thing on his list. Theories aside, you hoped that whatever the actual case was, he wasn't suffering from any kind of unwanted pressure.

Feeling Jason's arm sneak back around you, your eyes went wide and color bloomed back to life both on the inside and out. Your thighs brushed. You swallowed, cheeks turning pink again as you look back at Jason who's eyes were now solemn and peaceful, his embrace gentle as he held you the rest of the way through lunch. 


End file.
